


of late-night calls and second chances

by Majinie



Series: Prompts! [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, Drunk calls, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loki is very much done with Tony's shit, M/M, Post-breakup, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is a mess, commitment issues, human!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 03:52:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13872546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majinie/pseuds/Majinie
Summary: “Heyyy.” Tony greeted, drawn-out and a little giggly. “Din’t think you’d be pickin’ up. Din’t think I’d get your number right, actually.” He slouched in his chair, chin propped up in his hand, and listened to the silence on the other end of the line. “’s ‘cause I’m a genius,” he added. “Numbers are nice. Helluva lot easier than people, too.”There was another moment of silence from Loki. Then: “How many drinks have you had, Anthony?”Tony hummed contemplatively while he considered the question, eyeing the near-empty bourbon in front of him. After a few seconds, he answered with absolute certainty: “All of 'em.”





	of late-night calls and second chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HikariYumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikariYumi/gifts).



> I wrote this ages ago because the lovely Hikari requested it on tumblr, and I don't think I ever uploaded it here, so- have fun!

Tony had deleted Loki’s number from his contacts weeks ago so he wouldn’t get drunk and tempted to do exactly what he was doing now. Turns out his memory was better than he had given himself credit for, because even with Lord knew how many shots he’d had and at oh-god-o'clock in the morning, he’d managed to type in the familiar numbers. It had seemed like a good idea, too, until Loki had actually picked up.

“Hello?” Groggy, rough from sleep, a little concerned. Of course. It wasn’t like he got calls in the middle of the night all the time. “Who is this?”

“Heyyy.” Tony greeted, drawn-out and a little giggly. “Din’t think you’d be pickin’ up. Din’t think I’d get your number right, actually.” He slouched in his chair, chin propped up in his hand, and listened to the silence on the other end of the line. “’s ‘cause I’m a genius,” he added. “Numbers are nice. Helluva lot easier than people, too.”

There was another moment of silence from Loki. Then: “How many drinks have you had, Anthony?”

Tony hummed contemplatively while he considered the question, eyeing the near-empty bourbon in front of him. After a few seconds, he answered with absolute certainty: “All of 'em.” 

Somewhere behind him, there was a crashing noise and laughter.

“Are you home?”

“Nahhh. ’s kind of empty.” Tony traced patterns on the wood of his table morosely. “Flat’s too big for one person.” His words were slurring together as he spoke, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

Loki muttered something under his breath that sounded like it might be Norwegian. Cursing, probably. There was the rustle of movement, fabric. “Is someone with you?”

“Nah,” he repeated, slouching down in his seat. “Jus’ me. An’ the bourbon. Tastes like shit, too.” He reached for his glass, downed the last finger still left and waved an unsteady hand in the direction of the bartender.

“Where are you?” Loki’s tone was clipped, curt, hell, even to Tony it was obvious that the man was pissed, but he hadn’t heard his voice in  _weeks_  and he’d missed it, damn it. He missed Loki. “Anthony.” Nobody ever called him Anthony. With anyone else, it would annoy him, but Loki made it sound different. “Stop. Tell me where you are,  _now_.” Had he been talking out loud? “Yes, you have.” Loki groaned. “Gods, you’re plastered. Anthony, I need to know where you are.”

“Oh,” Tony made eloquently. “’s the bar– the one you din’t like. Said it’s got no class.” He giggled, then hiccuped. “You were right, too, this place is a mess. I’m a mess. Loki, I’m a  _mess_.”

“I can hear that.” A sigh, sharp, annoyed, short. “Stay.”

The line went dead.

Tony stared at his phone for a few moments, letters and numbers blurring, before he dropped it on the table when the waiter placed another shot in front of him. He snatched the glass immediately, liquid sloshing out over his fingers when he pulled it toward him and downed half of it. It burned in his throat and made his stomach churn and he wanted to cry or throw up or maybe both. He was probably going to end up doing both.

He’d been doing both a lot the past few weeks. Calling Loki, that was new.

“Stupid,” he murmured under his breath, dropping his head into his hands. “Fuckin’ stupid. Idiot.” They’d kept up radio silence until Tony just had to go and drunk-call his ex. Genius indeed.

Tony wasn’t sure how much time passed just sitting there, musing and feeling sorry for himself, a finger absently tracing the rim of his glass. He was about to lift it again to drain it, call it a night, go home and wallow in self pity where he had a bed, when paler, slender fingers wrapped around it and set it down out of his reach.

Surprised, he looked up. Met Loki’s eyes, narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, hair haphazardly pulled back into a loose bun at the back of his neck, dressed in a loose hoodie and jeans. Looking  _pissed_.

“You’re here,” Tony heard himself say, or at least he thought that was what he said. His tongue felt heavy and clumsy in his mouth, words slurring together.

“Astute as ever,” Loki responded. “Up. Come on.” He sounded just as clipped as on the phone, expression unreadable.

Tony beamed at him. “You gotta admit s'impressive,” he slurred while he stumbled to his feet, steadying himself on the table. “Didn’t think I’d get enough brain cells together to actually remember your number.” He took a step forward and promptly stumbled when the world started spinning wildly. “You always told me I was smart,” he murmured, muffled by the fabric of Loki’s hoodie.

“I’m doubting it right now,” Loki muttered, grabbing a hold of Tony’s arm to sling it over his shoulder. The other wrapped around Tony’s waist and he leaned into Loki’s side heavily, inhaling deeply.

“I still gotta…” He waved his free hand in the general direction of the bar counter, hoping that Loki could fill in the missing words.

He felt more than saw the taller man shake his head. “I covered your tab, just get in the bloody car. If you throw up on my upholstery, I’m going to make you walk.”

Tony murmured a quiet “charming” before he fell silent, eyes half-closed while he let Loki lead him. He concentrated on keeping his liquor down. He really didn’t feel like walking.

He made a quiet noise of protest when Loki more or less dropped him in the passenger seat of his car and went around to get to the other side. Tony slumped in his seat, head tilted back to stare at the roof of the car. They’d done  _things_  in this car, he remembered fondly, things that involved him somehow folding himself into the space between passenger seat and back seat and Loki’s hands in his hair, hushed, breathless praise and encouragement in the air.  

The slam of the driver’s side door closing jerked him out of his reverie and he looked over just as Loki glanced at him and heaved a sigh.

“For pity’s sake, Anthony.” He leaned over and for a second, Tony thought he was going to kiss him, tilted his head expectantly, but then Loki just reached over him to fasten his seatbelt and then dropped back against his own seat to do the same for himself.

Of course.

Tony slumped into his seat, arms crossed and a pout on his lips. “I don’t wanna go home.”

“Good, because I am not driving across town just to drop you off there,” Loki shot back while he pulled out of the parking lot. “Why did you even bother driving this far to get drunk? There’s enough bars around your block, this was hardly necessary.”

“We met here.” Tony turned his head, watched Loki’s profile, illuminated every few seconds when they passed under a street light. “You were with Thor an’ the other blond guy an’ I picked a fight with Thor an’ you told him he was…”

“I remember,” Loki cut him off, keeping his eyes so fixed on the road it must hurt his head. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel.

Tony watched for a few seconds, words bubbling up in his throat, and he meant to keep them to himself, he really did, but he found himself whispering an “I miss you” anyway.

If possible, Loki’s grip seemed to get even tighter. “Don’t,” he snapped, sharp, and Tony flinched and turned his head to stare down at his hands in his lap.

“Loki, I’m sor–”

“I said  _don’t,_ ” Loki cut him off again.

This time, he listened. They spent the rest of the brief ride in icy silence, Tony twiddling his thumbs  and picking at his nails, eyes falling shut every so often before a hole in the road made him jerk awake again. He was feeling tired and nauseous and ten more kinds of miserable, especially knowing that Loki was right here and Tony had screwed up, he’d screwed up so bad–

He stayed silent while Loki got him out of the car and up the stairs to his apartment, half-dragging Tony along as he went, and only when they were at the door to the flat and Loki was fumbling with his keys did Tony curl into him further, burying his face in the other man’s neck. He could feel Loki tense slightly, but then the door was clicking open and he was being hauled inside.

“Alright, get on the couch,” Loki commanded, attempting to dislodge Tony’s hold on him, but Tony just threw his other arm around Loki’s shoulders as well and breathed in deeply, face still tucked against Loki’s shoulder. “Anthony. Get off of me. Get on the bloody couch.”

“No,” he muttered, slightly muffled, and then “ _no_ ” with more determination, and he wasn’t sure  _what_  broke the dam but suddenly he was talking, babbling. “Look, Lokes, I  _know_  I fucked up, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to– I don’t know, I can't–”

“Anthony, stop.” For the first time, Loki’s cold, annoyed demeanour cracked, together with his voice. “Quit it.”

Tony clung to his hoodie tighter in response, shoulders shaking and breath coming in short, hitched gasps. “Please, Lokes, ’m sorry, really, I– please, lemme  _fix_  this, I love you, I do, I swear, and I shouldn’t’ve run, but I don’t know how this, I don’t know how to–”

“Shhhh,” Loki made, and it sounded soft, almost sweet, and then he was wrapping his arms around Tony and slender fingers were carding through his hair gently. “Hush, darling. Shh.” He kept up the soothing, repetitive motion and let Tony  _cry_ , messy and ugly and with tears soaking his hoodie, while Tony chided himself for ever,  _ever_ letting this go in the first place. “Let’s get you to bed, come on,” Loki murmured in his ear, quietly.

“Please,” Tony choked out, not sure what he was asking for, tightening his grip. He turned his head to the side, pressed a kiss to Loki’s neck and felt him freeze. Placed another kiss right under his jaw, got onto his tip-toes to reach his cheek–

Yelped in shock when Loki shoved him away forcefully enough that his back hit the wall behind him. “I  _told_  you to stop,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You’re drunk, I am  _not_  touching you when you’re like this, get in the bedroom.” With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared toward the kitchen.  

Tony stayed where he was, let his head drop back against the wall with his eyes squeezed shut.  _Stupid_ , he chided himself.  _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ He should have never called Loki, he shouldn’t have let himself be tempted like this, shouldn’t just have assumed that Loki wanted him back–

The way to the bedroom, achingly familiar, was made in small, stumbling steps and Tony wanted to cry again when his face hit the pillow and he inhaled slowly, basking in Loki’s scent while he blearily kicked off his shoes and curled up on top of the covers. He was exhausted, had been for weeks now. He was ready to crash, already half-asleep a few seconds after he’d closed his eyes.

Distantly, he heard Loki enter the room and set something down on the night stand firmly. “Drink,” he ordered. Then, quieter: “For heaven’s sake.” Tony felt a hand on his shoulder, turning him around, then a glass was being pushed to his lips and he obediently parted them, draining the glass and spilling surprisingly little of it.

He thought he felt Loki’s lips pressing against his hair for a moment after he’d dropped back into the pillow, but it was probably his imagination, and he suddenly felt too worn out to care.  

…

Tony woke with a low, pounding headache and a feeling in his mouth like something small had curled up and died there. He muffled his groan into his pillow and considered rolling over and going back to sleep, but he spotted a glass of water and painkillers on the night stand when he reluctantly blinked his eyes open, so he sighed and dragged himself up, downing two of the little pills and emptying the glass completely.

He rubbed a hand over his face while he willed the effects to kick in quickly, swinging his legs out of the bed.  _Yesterday’s clothes_ , he noted absently.  _Classy_. Far from being awake, he shuffled into the bathroom, and plucked his toothbrush out of its holder, determined to get the foul taste out of his mouth.

It was only halfway through brushing his teeth, staring at himself in the mirror, that he realised  _that wasn’t his mirror_. It hadn’t been his bed, either.

“Oh god,” he muttered, mouth full, and numbly bent down to rinse. “Oh, god.” He splashed some cold water in his face, ran his wet hands through his hair to get it into some semblance of order, and then met his own gaze in the mirror, cheeks red with humiliation. “You fucking moron,” he told himself.

He dried his hands and face off with a towel and straightened his clothes as best as he could. Fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. Stroked some more stray strands of hair back, washed out the sink, wondered why Loki hadn’t thrown his toothbrush out two months ago.

When he realised he was stalling, putting off the inevitable, he forced himself to straighten up and take a breath.

He was a fucking mess without Loki. It was pathetic.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he stepped back into the bedroom, gathering up his shoes from where he’d kicked them off, and then slowly stepped out into the living room.

Loki was curled in his armchair, in the hoodie and pants he’d worn last night, hair let down and glasses perched on his nose. There was a book on his knees and a mug of hot chocolate, probably cold by now, on the table next to him. He didn’t look up.

“Hey,” Tony greeted softly. Awkwardly.

“Morning,” Loki returned, still not lifting his gaze. His voice was quiet and guarded. “Did you find the painkillers?”

Tony cleared his throat quietly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Good. You know your way out.”

He flinched at the clear, harsh dismissal, shifting on his feet for a minute. A great part of him was tempted to just turn tail and run, but he’d done that the last time and he could see where it had gotten him. He needed to  _do_  something.

“Loki, look, I’m sorry for the way that I–”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Loki interrupted him, still not looking up, sounding strained, tight. “You know where the door is, Anthony, you had no trouble finding it last time.”

Yeah, he’d probably deserved that one. “I know I wasn’t being fair –”

“You weren’t being fair?” Loki echoed, and now he did look up. For the first time, Tony noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and his paler-than-usual skin tone, found himself wondering if Loki had slept at all after picking him up. The sound of his book snapping shut cracked through the room like a whip, making Tony flinch. “That’s one way of putting it, yes.” Loki got up from the chair, taking slow steps toward him. “You could have at least had the  _decency_  to talk to me, you know, instead of just  _cutting me off_  like I’m some… some…” He stopped halfway through the room, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. “I’m not doing this. Get out.”

Tony stepped forward, a little defiant. “Come on, Lokes, you gotta listen to me at least.”

“I would have listened to you!” Loki snapped. “I would have listened if you had  _talked_  to me, instead of running off – you didn’t answer your phone, you  _changed_  the  _key_ to your  _bloody apartment_ , we had  _radio silence_. I resorted to asking your friends because I was worried sick. The first sign of life I received from you in over two months was a drunken phone call!” His voice cracked on the last word and he drew a shaky breath, turning away from Tony, who stood rooted to his spot, shoes still in hand.

For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was Loki’s quick, hitched breathing. Then, Tony shook himself out of his stupor. He set his shoes down gingerly and then padded across the room on his socked feet, approaching Loki and very carefully resting his hands on the other man’s waist. When Loki didn’t immediately shake him off, Tony stepped a little closer, fitting himself against Loki’s back and wrapping his arms around his waist completely.

Loki’s sigh sounded almost resigned.

“I freaked,” Tony began hesitantly, murmuring into the back of Loki’s hoodie. “I… you have more stuff at mine than over here, I know that for a fact, I’ve been wearing your hoodies, and I have enough of my things  _here_  to last me a few days, and– and we basically live together most of the time and it is so fucking  _weird_  to wake up without you and we can tell each other 'I love you’ without freaking out and I guess I just… I realised how goddamn  _committed_ we are and I got scared I was gonna fuck up because it actually  _means_ something this time around–”

“You did,” Loki interjected, and Tony ground to a halt, blinking in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Fuck up. You did. You fucked up.” His shoulders were shaking and Tony hoped to god that it was with laughter.

“Guess I did,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. “I was trying to get to a point here.”

“Pray tell, what was it?” There was a trace of his usual sarcasm in Loki’s voice and Tony almost cried with relief.

Tony breathed in deeply, closing his eyes while he leaned his cheek against Loki’s back. “The point being, I thought it was gonna be better if I pull out of this before doing it gets worse and even harder later and I realised it was stupid a few days into it but I didn’t know how to tell you what was going on, I didn’t know if I could face you without panicking again, and so I kept up the radio silence which was a dick move, I get it, but…”

“Your point, Anthony,” Loki reminded him gently, and Tony nodded jerkily.

“Yeah. Yeah. Well, basically, my point is that I was being stupid and that I’d never,  _ever_  want to not have you in my life, and I know you have every right to be pissed at me and if I fuck up again you can kick me out and I’ll deserve it but I’d like a second chance please?” He’d gotten quicker the longer he talked, words tumbling out of his mouth in what was hopefully the correct order, and now he was holding his breath while he felt Loki’s chest shake with a silent laugh. God, he hoped it was a laugh and he hadn’t made him cry.

He felt more than saw Loki raise a hand to wipe at his face while he took a slow, unsteady breath.

“You are buying me dinner tonight,” Loki announced eventually and Tony thought he was going to sob with relief. “And if I hear you complaining about your hangover, I’m leaving.”

“That’s fair,” he agreed immediately, a little choked up. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do dinner.”


End file.
